


A few words

by RunningRiver05



Series: HermitCraft One-Shot [1]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Dogs, Drowning, Hanging, Heavy Angst, Murder, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Poisoning, Robots, Stabbing, Starvation, Suicide, Vent Writing, animal mauling, but still, hung, implied starvation, mauling, nothing's too graphic, please heed the warnings in the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:02:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27817243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunningRiver05/pseuds/RunningRiver05
Summary: A note. A single note, with a few words on it.(Oh, how Grian wished he'd burned that note.)Twisting his life around, in knots.(Grian was hurting.)And inevitably, throwing HermitCraft into a mess.(Grian only wished he'd been smart enough to see the signs.)
Series: HermitCraft One-Shot [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035474
Comments: 7
Kudos: 50





	A few words

Grian always tried to do the best for his robotic friends. 

(Unless those robots spoke out against him, or tried to hurt him.)

Grumbot and Jrumbot were such examples. Grian cared deeply for his and Mumbo’s sons, and he would hate for anything bad to happen to them. Grian loved his kids, and he was willing to do anything for them, really. 

(As long as that anything fit into his specific criteria.)

Grian was happy to play along and help out. He was even willing to sell diamonds and promote the shirts he made in order to make Grumbot happy. 

(Both Grian and Mumbo had given up on the mayor race a while ago.)

But when Grumbot had told Grian he needed to turn to murder in order to win, he’d refused. He wasn’t willing to hurt his friends in order to win some competition that he’d created. Neither Mumbo nor himself were that invested in winning. 

(Grian knew that for a fact, he remembered.)

Mumbo had agreed with Grian when Grian had suggested that they decommission Grumbot. When Grian had explained his question and the answer he’d received, Mumbo had said he’d look into either resetting Grumbot, or shutting him down permanently. 

(Grian was a fool to have trusted Mumbo.)

So Grian had gone on with his day. His anxiety had spiked, but he was okay. Mumbo had made him a promise, and Grian refused to carry through with what Grumbot had told him to do. That was just too far. 

(Grian could see that now.)

The first dead body had been a shock. Doc had been found, in the middle of the shopping district. A sign reading “Scar for mayor” was stabbed through his stomach, and his robotic parts were sparking from damage. His limbs had been detached from his body, even. 

(They were all dead because of him.)

Grian had thrown up on sight. Scar had been unable to speak, sobbing into Cub’s shoulder as the bearded man held him. Mumbo had comforted Grian, and murmured that everything was going to be okay, and that this was just a coincidence. Doc was going to come back and be okay. 

(If Grian hadn’t been so foolish, maybe he could have saved them all.)

Xisuma had come back later, and reported that somehow, the game mode on HermitCraft had been turned to hardcore, and he couldn’t change it back. Xisuma had said there must have been a glitch, but as long as everyone was careful, they’d be okay. He’d warned everyone to decommission any games involving death, before someone got seriously hurt, and advised caving to be put on hold temporarily. 

(Grian wished the hands holding him weren’t stained with his friends blood.)

Doc was held a funeral. The funeral was sombre, and Grian cried. Doc hadn’t deserved this. A week later, Scar was found, hung from a jungle tree. Xisuma said that this couldn’t possibly be a coincidence. No one had heard any sort of suicidal thoughts from Scar, and Scar was always open with his feelings. Cub had wept, and fingers were pointed when suspicions were raised. Iskall was the main target of those suspicions. 

(Grian hoped that Iskall would forgive him for what he’d done.)

Grian had been distraught. He hadn’t known what to think, and in his anger over Doc and Scar’s deaths, he’d gone to Iskall’s base a few days after Scar’s funeral. He’d drugged Iskall with potions of blindness, slowness and weakness, and drowned him in the river. Mumbo had reported finding Iskall’s body floating downstream the next morning. 

(Iskall had been innocent, Grian now knew.)

Everyone was reasonably horrified, as had been with Scar. These couldn’t be a coincidence. Scar and Iskall were too cheery and lighthearted to have anyone seriously hate them. Even Doc meant everything in good fun. Grian hoped that Iskall’s death would put a stop to the murders. 

(He was wrong. He was always fucking wrong.)

False turned up dead soon enough. Her eyes were gouged out, and glass from her goggles was shattered, covering her face. Her nose was bloody, and she had a slit throat, along with multiple stab wounds. By that point, Mumbo had said he’d shut down Grumbot, and encased him in a concrete prison, where he couldn’t be seen or turned on by anyone. 

(Mumbo was a liar, and Grian was a fool to trust him.)

Joe was found mauled by dogs soon enough, with bite marks and claw marks all over him. Within a week, Cleo was found dead, looking like she’d been fighting someone. They were buried together, and Grian had read out a poem of his own composition. He thought it’d be fitting, for Joe. 

(Mumbo had showed up at the scene of the crime bloodied and bruised, hastily covering his wounds.) 

Two months passed before Stress’ body had been found. Only a month before that, Stress had stopped responding to her communicator. She was skin and bones, starved, with traces of poison lingering in her bloodstream. 

(He could have saved them, if he’d seen the signs.)

Xisuma committed suicide not a week later. His suicide note contained a section for every living hermit left, and Grian wasn’t seen for a week after he’d read it. He needed time to grieve and get himself together. He’d been elected admin by Xisuma. 

(A familiar position that he slipped right into, hating every second of.)

A week later, the surviving hermits had agreed to finish the mayoral race, and the vote was held. Mumbo won by a unanimous vote, although no hermit could understand why he’d still want the title. Too much blood had been spilt recently, and most were from mayoral candidates. 

(If only Grian had known at the time.)

Tango had been found, beaten and drugged, the next day. Impulse and Zedaph were distraught, and Grian had hosted a funeral for them. 

(It was Mumbo. It always had been.)

A week later, Mumbo had payed Grian a visit to his base. Mumbo was wearing his regular suit and tie, but it smelled of copper, and Grian had to supress the urge to throw up. Mumbo had offered Grian a smile. “It was all me, Grian. I did it all.” Mumbo had said. Grian had cried, and asked why. 

(The problem was rooted at that god damn robot, like usual.)

Mumbo had led Grian to Grumbot’s box, where Grian had been shown around a planning room. There were papers everywhere, and there was blood, and Grian felt sick when he saw a line of different items on the wall, in frames: trophies from Mumbo’s kills. 

(Grumbot was grinning.)

Doc’s mechanical eye.

(Always grinned.)

Scar’s wizard hat.

(Looked so fucking happy with what Mumbo had done.)

False’s broken goggles

(Grian felt sick.)

Joe’s glasses, bent and ensnaring a dog tooth. 

(He’d created a monster.)

A chunk of Cleo’s skin.

(He was a monster.)

A couple of Stress’ teeth.

(Mumbo was a monster)

A lock of Tango’s hair.

(This was all Grian’s fault.)

Grian had stared at Mumbo, frozen in horror. “Don’t you see, Grian? Grumbot knew you’d never be able to do it. That’s why he gave you the task. To make you make me to come to him, so he could help me see why it needed to be done.” Mumbo explained, smiling. His eyes glinted unnaturally, shining in the candle light. 

(Mumbo wasn’t Mumbo anymore.)

“Grumbot even helped me become one of what he is; part robot, so I could properly analyse our chances of winning.” Mumbo explained, pulling his sleeve up. He pressed a button on his wrist, and the skin like plates shot away, showing the exposed wiring in place of veins.

(Mumbo was now Mumbot.)

“And it worked. We won, Grian.” Mumbot grinned at Grian. Grian was frozen in place. 

(This felt like torture.)

“Was it really worth it though?” Grian whispered to Mumbot. 

(Grian just wanted it to end.)

“Of course it was, Grian. Trust me on this one.”

(And Grian, like the fool he was, made himself believe it.)


End file.
